


No Limits

by khaleesian



Category: Fast and the Furious (2001)
Genre: April Showers Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:38:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khaleesian/pseuds/khaleesian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom has issues with authority.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Limits

It was a long, dusty road. Empty, as far as the eye could tell. The horizon had faded into a dusky pink blur. His hands rested loosely on the steering wheel as Dom scanned the vista that spread around him. The minute differences that marked the landscape as he had shot past were absent now. The clarity that had come with speed had departed and the hills, jagged with chaparral, had settled into a haze. Dom closed his eyes briefly to bring himself back to the present.

His problem wasn’t in front of him after all.

It strode up through the dust behind him, magnified in the rearview. Sunlight glanced off the helmet and the tools on the belt circling the lean waist. The tools sounded a steady chink-chink with each step. Tall black boots, shined to a high gloss. The police officer was a thin blue line in this dusty rose-brown world.

“Good afternoon,” the cop said politely. “May I see your license and registration, please?”

Dom was silent as he fished for his wallet in his back pocket. The cop leaned genially on the car while the operation was accomplished. He examined the license with slightly upturned lips as if pleased to note Dom’s name, weight, date of birth, the rather academic issue of his hair color. “Registration?” he murmured.

“It’s in the glove box,” Dom said noncommittally.

“Do you have a problem with letting me see it?” The cop sounded amused.

“No,” Dom sounded more annoyed than he meant to. “Do you have a problem with me reaching for it?”

“No problem,” The cop smiled widely and gestured encouragingly with Dom’s license.

Dom sighed, yanked open the glove box and produced the required document. The cop took one step back and vanished into the blind spot. This was Dom’s cue to floor the gas and leave the pig choking on dust, spitting out gravel. In the long run, though, it would just be more of a hassle. Dom slumped back in his seat and waited.

“Mr. Toretto.” The cop drew his name out into an operatic stanza. “Would you step out of the car, please?”

Dom didn’t mean to snap the door closed quite that hard…but the sound of it closing echoed through the silent hills, highlighting the loneliness of their location. He faced the cop and folded his arms over his chest. Keep cool.

“Do you know how fast you were going?” The cop had flipped up the gray window of his helmet’s visor. His eyes were still shielded by mirrored sunglasses.

Dom pulled his lips off of his teeth. “No idea.”

“Me neither,” the cop grinned at Dom’s scowl. “Fast enough to be hard to catch, anyway.”

Dom tried to keep the edge from his voice. This guy already knew his name, his address when he’s at home, his weight, his hair color. By contrast, he couldn’t even see the cop’s eyes. The part of the uniform where his nameplate should have been pinned was a smooth and pristine cotton-poly blend. “Look, are you going to give me a ticket or aren’t you? Because otherwise, it doesn’t seem like we have business, yeah?”

The cop tapped one of his long fingers on his lips and turned slightly away from Dom. “A ticket’s not what’s at issue here, Mr. Toretto. Driving in excess of twenty miles over the posted speed limit merits, at the very least, a charge of reckless driving. Which is a misdemeanor. You could be violating your parole.”

When Dom stayed silent, the cop stroked one finger over the length of the Mazda’s spoiler. “Your car doesn’t have any illegal modifications, now does it?”

The calm, cool voice had finally gotten on Dom’s last nerve. “This is **bullshit** , man. You know this is harassment, right? What’s your badge number?”

He got up in the cop’s face easily enough, since the guy didn’t back off a step. “34762.” He punctuated each number by stabbing at the shiny shield with his finger, careful not to touch, even with the edge of his fingernail. The tiniest part of him touching, even accidentally spitting would be the end of this because that was the real deal, the big gun, because that was…

“Assault,” the cop said with a glacial white smile.

Dom didn’t waste time. He was screwed already, so why the hell not? Every cell in his body shrieked for fight or flight. He threw his best punch copward. And was abruptly stumbling, because the guy just wasn’t there.

“You swing too hard,” the cop’s voice came from behind him, still friendly. When he turned to press the attack, Dom was blinded by the sun which was setting right behind the tall figure. “I know, see, because I do the same thing….might as well make your first punch, your last punch, right? The problem is…you get overbalanced and someone who was anticipating you could take advantage of that.”

Suddenly, a lightning surge of pain jolted through his body so quickly that it was gone before his nerve endings revolted with the agony. At the same time, pressure hooked him under his knee and his weight collapsed like the proverbial ton of bricks. He was on his back and all the messages that his brain was trying to send his body had gone completely haywire. Holy shit.

Sudden pressure at his wrists and the snicking snap of metal let him know that he was in bigger trouble than he’d ever anticipated. He wanted to yell, but his jaws wouldn’t unclench. He was still spasming while the cop re-holstered his taser and nightstick. The cop knelt over him and started massaging the thick muscles that framed Dom’s jaw.

Dom was gasping up at blue. Blue eyes. Blue sky.

The cop had whipped off his sunglasses and his face was oddly perfect in the halo of his dark helmet. Dom wasn’t big on psychology, but even he could recognize a mindfuck when he felt it. Lying here, flopping around like a fish because the bastard had just tased him and cuffed him, yet he felt weirdly grateful for the strong fingers that were rubbing away the pain that twisted up his face.

As he came back into himself, he became hyper-aware of the other man’s closeness. The cop was kneeling with one knee on Dom’s sternum, one knee next to his shoulder. And Dom wondered when he became such a…goddamn dog, that the scent of this stranger could send more electric currents to his groin. He imagined the cop riding on his bike all day absorbing the leather smell of the saddle, sweating under his thick polyester. Breathing the musk of his crotch was robbing Dom of the last vestiges of his tenuous control. He had to get away before...

Still twitchy and weak, he tried to bend his knees, to make his legs respond. The cop helpfully jerked him upright by the waistband of his pants and moved him to lean on the trunk of the Mazda. The voltage of the taser had bled out his strength and left his muscles strangely relaxed.

The firm hands on his waist and shoulder felt like a brand scorching his skin. It was too much. Something about this felt so fierce, so strange. Dom tried to wrench away from those blazing hands. He threw his head back and felt it connect with the hardsoft of flesh, tried to drive an elbow into the lean torso behind him. A muffled curse and a shove in his knee and the small of his back sent him back down into the dirt.

The grit of sand scraped the side of his face. His panting breath raised little clouds of dust. Everything was too close to focus on. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw shiny black. Boots. The cop was standing patiently, waiting for Dom to push himself up.

He fanned out his fists, the muscles in his back bunched, as he drew himself slowly to his knees. Dom didn’t want to look, told himself that he would not look, but his traitorous eyes drew up to the cop’s face.

He almost flinched when he saw the blood. His head had connected with the cop’s unshielded face. The cop didn’t seem to notice the blood snaking from his nose, but something in Dom’s face made him smile.

The blood trickling down in a lazy line down the cop’s perfect face, spreading into the grooves of his straight white teeth as he smiled, was easily one of the scariest things Dom had ever seen. He shifted his gaze to the baton which was right under his nose, really, resting in the hollow where his neck met his collarbone. He found himself irrationally wishing that the guy would just knock him a good one behind his ear. He wasn’t responsible for things that happened while he was unconscious, was he?

No such luck. The cop rolled the baton along the line of his shoulder, traced it over the hard line of his jaw. Dom remained motionless, trying to find somewhere to look. Not into those terrifyingly hard eyes, not at the cop’s groin, also terrifyingly hard.

For a long moment, the nightstick rested in the hollow of his chin, a hairsbreadth from his mouth. He had to lock his gaze with the blue-eyed devil. Don’t shove that thing inside of me. The smooth wood nudged the bottom of his lip almost gently. Please. After the tension had ramped up to 8 on the Richter scale, the cop holstered the baton and leaned forward.

“Problems with authority, huh?” The cop’s voice was still calm and friendly. “I’m gonna have to run you in, I think.” Dom let himself be hauled upright next to the car.

Somehow he had been eased into classic frisk posture; he was propped on his forearms and clenched fists. The trunk of the Mazda sank slightly under his weight.

Stiffened fingers ran a line over the back of Dom’s shoulder blades. Don’t do this. They spanned the curves in the long muscles in his back and stroked down to his midriff. Hands gripped his waist and slid around his chest. Don’t do this. They flattened against his abdominal muscles and pushed down to his pelvis and dipped into the space at the top of his thighs. The cop’s thumbs lightly brushed over his stiff, hungry flesh and paused. Don’t fucking do this.

“You have a license to carry a concealed weapon?” the slight note of humor almost distracted Dom from the cop’s palm sliding over his cock. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Dom wanted to speak, to shout, to shake his head at least, but he did nothing as the cop dipped his fingers past Dom’s waistband. The guy reached around with his other hand, eased down the zipper and pulled Dom’s secret shame into the dry desert air. Dom’s fully engorged cock lay across the cop’s palm, like he was casually weighing it.

Dom was struck by a vision of memory. A dog fight he had the great misfortune to witness after delivering an engine one day in the bowels of East L.A. A runt of a pit bull vs. a lumbering Rottweiler. On the face of it, the match had looked so desperately uneven that no one wanted to give odds against the Rott. Ten seconds into the fray, blood had been flowing freely. Then the pit had compensated for its smaller size with whipcord strength and determination that seemed to defy all instinct. When its jaws clamped over the Rott’s windpipe, Dom had watched in horrified fascination as the larger dog’s eyes rolled around like marbles, looking for any escape. He can feel his own eyes doing the same desperate dance.

Dom’s lips were drawn so tight over his teeth that they’d lost all feeling. His lips were numb, his face was burning, his body was trying to pull in one hundred different directions. His baggy pants slid down to his knees so he bent down to grab at them with his cuffed hands. This pushed his ass into the cop’s crotch, naturally, because the guy was still plastered against him.

“You seem pretty anxious,” the cop’s whisper threaded into his ear. “Sure you don’t want me to kiss you first?”

Dom froze as the cop suddenly squeezed and pumped his cock. Not a bullying touch, but firm as if Dom were some strong and unpredictable animal who needed to be coaxed into obedience. Dom’s heart was beating like a hummingbird’s wings and his tongue was pressing into the back of his front teeth where he had drawn breath to say ‘no’. But he couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t move, while the cop’s other hand stroked proprietarily down his lower back and curved into the crevice of his ass. It doesn’t seem right that the bastard should be able to touch him so casually where he hasn’t ever even really touched himself.

The pad of the cop’s finger rested right over Dom’s hole. The cop’s knee nudged his own in a wordless gesture that said spread ‘em cupcake. The cloth against the skin of his inner thigh made his cock pound.

The hand retreated and Dom exhaled sharply. His shoulders swelled until his elbow grazed the cop’s chest. Dom realized that the guy was fumbling one-handed at his belt while keeping his other hand anchored over Dom’s cock. Dom stiffened because he didn’t think he could take another bout with the taser, or even worse, a gun. Dom heard a snap and a squeezing, slurping sound and then the hand, the fingers were back, cooler and wetter. One pushed inside of Dom with a prickling tickle, like getting stabbed with a thousand needles.

The only clear thought that came through the cacophony in Dom’s head at that moment was: _Aren’t you supposed to be wearing a glove, you son of a bitch?_

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even tighten up or push away because that would be responding. That would open him up to more of that gentle, teasing voice that buzzed around his head like a wasp that he can’t see. Dangerous. Some small part of him understood that the heat washing over him had nothing to do with anger or shame.

The finger rotated and turned inside him as fluid as a tongue. Dom’s cock started to throb. This all happened so fast; he was dizzy from it. Light-headed.

The voice tickled inside his ear again as another finger slid in alongside the first. “You may be the king of the streets back in the city, Dominic.” Those fingers inched up until a jolt rocked Dom’s body. More electricity. Dom’s back arched involuntarily and he tilted his chin up until all he could see was the sky. “But in case you haven’t noticed, this ain’t L.A.”

The fingers felt like they were stabbing straight through his body, like the cop could reach up through his viscera and clasp his hammering heart. Dom had never felt so open, so exposed. The fingers pulled away and his heart nearly skipped a beat.

“Throw it up for me pretty, Toretto.” The cop’s voice cascaded over his ear and down his neck and chest like a stream of dirty water. “You’re so…. tight. I can tell this is gonna be fun.”

The pressure returned, burning and hard. Dom knew he was teetering on the edge of learning something that he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. The wide web of the cop’s hand was palming his ass, holding him open from one side. Dom felt like a door the guy was trying to push through. He listened to his own labored breathing. As the cop stuck his key in Dom’s lock, Dom recognized the feeling welling up inside. The same raw joy that churned in his blood when he punched the Nos.

Dom could see his reflection in the shiny red of the car, his face in the gleaming black of the cop’s boots. Panic sucked away his strength and he couldn’t quite reach the rage that would set him free. Panic because he realized that if the cop pulled away, Dom would push back to meet him.

“The question you might be asking yourself right now is: Why? Doesn’t seem fair, does it? A back road, a wrong turn and you end up right here. End of the line.” If the guy would just stop talking in that even voice, Dom could move, do something. But he doesn’t. The cop rocked his hips in a little shimmy that made Dom gasp.

“But this situation isn’t really…unique, you know. Right now, somewhere, somebody is out there getting fucked by the Man.” The cop thrust lazily. “The difference between you is: they’re probably not enjoying it.”

In the weird floating moment of lucidity, he realized that what he was feeling was the prickle of another man’s pubic hair on his balls. The bastard was that deep inside him and Dom hadn’t even... The thought made him flinch. He tried to twist away but his pants puddled around his ankles kept him tottering until the cop’s strong hand steadied him.

“Keep struggling,” The cop murmured. “It feels good.”

The cop’s teeth pressed into his scalp. The cop whispered something that Dom couldn’t hear but felt in the sting of teeth. The cop was whispering, because they were sharing a secret out here in the desert. The sun was setting.

The cop stroked two fingers of one hand the entire length of Dom’s spine. The cop’s voice was still calm, uninflected, but there’s a slight catch in it that makes Dom’s nipples tighten. Suddenly, the cop’s fingers dug in and gashed a hole in Dom’s T-shirt. A long tearing sound and his shirt was a dishrag draped over the cuffs. He felt the edges of teeth pressed into his shoulder blade. The cop’s thrusting was getting jerky and uneven. But his hand on Dom’s cock never wavered.

Instinct. Inevitability. He unclenched his fists and clasped his own hands around the cop’s pumping hand. Soft lips pressed against his neck, behind his ear. He’s unlocked, unloaded, undone.

The whisper seemed to coil around his aching cock, “You’re not in control anymore, Dominic.”

A deep earth-shaking orgasm blinded him momentarily. For the first time, it didn’t center around his cock but seemed to quake through his bones, muscles, skin, sending aftershocks that made his eyes squeeze shut. It left him sagging in a graceless sprawl, half on the car, half in the dirt. It didn’t matter now. Nothing did.

 

********

 

When he started feeling like a person with a functioning brain again and not just a collection of nerve endings, he could see the diffuse glow and sparkle of the city on the horizon. The car was still sleepily warm with the fading sun’s heat. His seat was fully reclined. His vision resolved on the long, angular lines of the driver.

“I like those boots,” he muttered, almost to himself. Brian didn’t take his eyes from the road as he replied smoothly and without sarcasm. “Yeah, I could tell.”

“You’re a born romantic with your taser and…nightstick,” Dom rolled the words around in his mouth.

Brian’s cheeks got hollow as if he were biting the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. “Don’t forget the cuffs.”

“How could I?” Dom rubbed his wrists.

“Too much?” And if Brian’s voice was light, the way his eyes have darkened told Dom everything.

Dom leaned back on the headrest, clamped down on the slight ache and savored the thrum of satisfaction magnified by the engine’s hum. “Just enough.”

End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Rachelle for the inspiration and Blackmeow for assuring me that Dom could take the taser and much more besides. She’s an instigator par excellence. Please note that a taser is 50,000 volts of electricity and thus not your average sex toy. In other words, please don’t try this at home.


End file.
